You Unbroke my Bones
by Miss Whoniverse
Summary: Title was changed because I found it irritating! Long story short; Bones is attacked... but don't listen to me. I can't write a good description without giving the story away... try it, please? And review! Rated T for blood and language. BxB, naturally.
1. Chapter 1

Booth whistled as he climbed the stairs to Bones' apartment. He'd been taking care of Parker for the weekend, and as much as he loved his son, he'd been in severe Temperance-withdrawal... as he walked along the hallway to her door he considered the irony at the lack of temperance he was able to show with regards to Temperance – the word, of course, meaning along the lines of 'to moderate your intake'.

He had no intentions of moderating his intake of Bones.

As he knocked on her door, all the mirth drained from his face and his hand strayed suspiciously to his belt where it hovered over his gun.

He watched the door swing away, half a hinge all that was holding it up. He almost yelled out as he saw the state of her home.

Her place was upturned – like someone had picked it up, turned it upside down, and righted it again.

A couch was overturned, chairs askew and on their sides, and he really did pull out his gun angrily as he saw a small blotch of blood on the floor in her kitchen. He crept towards it, listening for any stray sounds in her apartment, and noticed in horror that above the small splash, her bench and counter were smeared with blood. The streak stopped abruptly about halfway down, and menacing drips had sunk further from that point.

_Almost like she was stabbed or shot, fell a bit, then someone caught her and took her away_, he thought instantly, cursing himself for having a military trained mind.

He analytically observed the scene, his anger threatening to overflow, and he turned worriedly, looking for any other blood spots that could lead to her location.

He immediately noted a path of destruction, like she'd been violently dragged towards... the bathroom. Blood had dried into her carpet in droplets, marking an unmistakable trail.

He loaded his weapon and padded towards the large bathroom, eyes flicking around.

Preparing to unceremoniously kick the door in, he paused as he heard the small sounds of splashing coming from inside. Turning the knob in complete silence, he pushed the door open a few millimetres and looked in.

A tall man was at the sink, washing his hands. The water was red as it swirled down the drain, and Booth's eyes widened as he noticed a small, bloodied hand hanging over the side of the bathtub, which was drawn with a plastic curtain.

A red haze crept over his vision, and he yelled out, smashing the door open so hard it bounced against the tiled wall, smashing a few said tiles. He cocked his gun, relishing the fear on the attacker's face as he span around from the sink.

"Here's your warning, you damn son of a bitch," growled Booth, shaking. "I'm going to FUCKING shoot you."

He fired off several shots into the man's shins, watching in satisfaction as the guy cried out and slipped in the splatters of blood. He made sure to kick the man viciously as he ran past.

Ripping the curtain violently from its hangers, he reeled back with shock as he saw his Bones lying unconscious in the tub.

"Oh my God... Bones...."

Her hair was matted; her clothes wrinkled and obviously put back onto her in a hurry, and she was soaked in her own blood. He almost cried as he saw the jagged knife wound; all the way through her side, and he noticed bruises beginning to blossom, spiderwebbing up her arms and neck. His fury mounted.

His unconscious partner / best friend was almost dead, and even as he turned and saw her assailant bleeding out, he simply called a single med unit to the apartment.

"Let the prick die," he snapped to himself furiously, crouching beside his partner but daring not to move her in case he hurt her further.

It was pretty obvious what had happened, so they didn't need the nameless attacker for any investigation, and Booth didn't really mind if the guy died slowly and painfully.

He noted with some satisfaction that there were two deep scratches on the man's face and he also sported some impressive bruises and blemishes on his forearms and face. Bones had fought back, but a big strong guy with a knife and apparently good reflexes would have been too much for an unsuspecting Brennan....

"Agent Booth," called out the head medic from the hallway.

"In here," he yelled back. His voice was steady, but he felt his raw emotions beginning to surface. So far it'd been action; reaction... fight and figure things out. But now, as he looked tenderly down at his partner, and stroked under her jaw to find a weak and stuttering pulse, his anger and hatred were slowly overpowered by fear and despair.

He stood up and turned as the meds streamed in, all five of them instantly seeing the man on the floor and bending to attend to him.

"Not him!" barked Booth furiously. "Her!" He pointed commandingly at the bath, and the frightened medics jumped and hastened to attend to her. There were a few muted gasps and the head med started calling out statistics and injuries to his people. One medic stepped away and bent to the injured man, despite Booth's grumblings.

As the men attending to Brennan began to sound more desperate, radioing the hospital to secure an immediate operation, Booth stepped away abruptly, not wanting to hear what Bones was suffering with.

It all came crashing down on him – his partner. _Bones_, the one he fantasized about holding and kissing, about waking up to in the morning. She'd been attacked – violently. A_ttack_ed. Bones. Attacked. It just didn't gel, and the fact that she was laying there, all emotion and life drained from her along with the blood in her body; and the knowledge that it was a very real possibility that she was going to die... he babbled frantically in his mind, and it all made him afraid – so very afraid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all.**

**This story is my first attempt, of course, at a chaptered Bones story... I hope I do ok. I think people thought Booth was a little out of character, what with his reaction to the guy in Brennan's bathroom, but he loves Bones almost as much as he loves Parker, and I imagine if it was Parker laying there covered in blood, Booth would have no qualms for shooting him.**

**Anyway, whatever you thought of the first chapter, this is the next one. I read every review and I appreciate them all :D**

Seeing Bones wheeled into the emergency room, covered in blood, was such a conflicting image in Booth's mind that he forgot to freak out. All he could think about was how, in retrospect, he probably shouldn't have shot the guy – it could get him into trouble. He should have maintained a professional outlook on the situation....

He flopped down into an uncomfortable plastic seat, pummelling his closed eyes with the heels of his hand and watching the little pools of colour that grew behind his eyelids with the pressure.

At the prompting of the hospital personnel to call any of Bones' close friends or family alarm bells rang in his mind. It seemed to him like they would only send a summons for people like that if she wasn't in a good condition. The doctors were sympathetic, but refused to give him any details, so he grudgingly pulled out his phone and scrolled moodily through the numbers. After a moment, he found what he needed and dialled, finding comfort in the familiar dial tone.

"Angela," the other end chirped cheerfully. By her tone, Booth could tell there were no rotting corpses she was giving faces to at the moment.

"Ange?" he asked dazedly. "Um... I need you to come."

"What?" she asked, her tone falling automatically into 'concerned friend'. "Where are you? What's wrong?"

"It's..." he paused, sighing. Fear was beginning to claw its way back around his heart, making his chest tight and his breathing light. "It's Bones – I found her, and it was- the door was down and there was- I mean, the counter, blood... and she was there, and I followed the blood, and- and he was washing his hands and-" his voice went from frantic to a furious growl. "-and I shot him; her arm was hanging from the bathtub and... there was so much blood!"

"Shh, honey, calm down," said Angela, trying to restrain her own voice and not betray the fact that she'd shut down her computer and already started running, kicking Hodgins' and Zack's chairs to get their attention. "I'll be there soon, relax honey, you can let it out when I get there, okay?"

Booth's frustrated but steady breathing was response enough.

"Okay, sweetie, I need you to tell me where you are," she said soothingly. The image of a blood soaked Brennan lying in her bathtub, unconscious, assaulted her mind, and she flinched. She barely even noticed Hodgins slip carefully beside her and squeeze her shoulders – his touch felt cold and she couldn't concentrate.

"I'm at the emergency room. She..." Booth swallowed convulsively. This was a difficult conversation for him. "She had a serious stab wound, she's in surgery now." His voice broke on the words 'stab' and 'now', and he felt his eyes prickle with warmth.

Hearing Angela's angry gasp at the other end of the line, and her harsh whispers to – presumably – Hodgins and Zack, he ended the call. He didn't have to tell her which hospital; they always came to the same one. It was near the FBI building, for convenience.

Hanging up the phone abruptly, he let his head drop into his hands, elbows leaning on knees. As the tears seeped through his fingers, he was reminded horribly of being shot and seeing his blood seep through Bones' fingers as she had hysterically tried to staunch his leaking wound... he had seen it peripherally while he stared at her face, unable to think of anything other than his surprise, a mild throb in his chest - that he assumed wasn't agonising because of shock – and her face as she begged him to come on.

The memory played in his head in perfect clarity, reminding him without welcome of the aftermath of that event, how Sweets had not told her he was alive, and she had been distraught. A small smile graced his face as he recalled her pissed off punch at his funeral. He let the memory play over and over for a few minutes, falling into the recesses of his memories as he tried to forget.

A faint rubber screech in the background disturbed his thoughts and he wrenched his head up, eyes flicking around. A few moments later, Angela's commanding presence entered the room as she forcefully slammed open the end doors. He felt some small relief at her company, and she smiled tersely at him, preparing herself to be aggressive as well as comforting.

If anyone could manage it, she could.

Sinking down into the chair next to Booth, she sighed. "What did she do?"

Booth didn't let himself get angry at what he might have seen as an accusation of Bones' irresponsibility – only _he _was allowed to mock Bones. "Nothing. All the evidence suggests she was surprised... it was premeditated, I'm thinking."

Angela just nodded, extending a hand comfortably to rub his shoulder. He leaned in slightly; the action reminding him of how Bones would never think she knew what to say to make him feel better, and mostly just gave comfort through contact. Angela knew what Bones was like and knew what she would have done if it was someone else in the surgery room, and knew it would make Booth feel better.

Angela was shockingly good at reading into people's actions and personalities... she was a comforting person to be around – excepting, of course, when she was interrogating certain people about a certain nonexistent relationship....

As Hodgins and Zack walked in, after having apparently parked the car (undoubtedly one of Hodgins' prized sports cars), Booth sat up and Angela explained the situation in hushed tones.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, before Booth spoke.

"How can you guys be so relaxed?" he asked softly. "You don't seem that frantic... I just- just, how do you do it?"

"Easy," smiled Angela, and Hodgins secretly ogled her in the background. "She's a fighter. We both know how strong she is – if she was alive after all she went through, and she was alive when she got here, she'll be alive when she comes out."

Booth pondered this for a moment, then gave up and accepted her logic. Squints didn't bother him when they were making him feel better.


	3. Chapter 3

**I finally got around to the final chapter of this. It has taken its time developing, but hopefully isn't too bad.**

**I live for reviews; and it's just so exciting turning the computer on in the morning to find ten emails from ! You all know the feeling; fellow writers... :D**

**Booth POV**

I was so nervous when they said I could go in. I had no idea what I was expected to say, or do, or how to comfort someone in her situation.

We all crowded in together; deceptively quiet, and looked at her. My heart panged tightly as I saw the bandages and the bruises. Some prick had done this to her... and he was in the hospital too. A few harmless bullets to the legs; purely to incapacitate him. Completely self-preservation.

She was propped up limply on some plush pillows, staring off out the window into space, just thinking. When she saw the door move from the corner of her eye, she flicked her sight over to us for a moment and quirked her lips in greeting before returning to her pondering.

"We'll come see her later," muttered Angela thickly, before turning and ushering the other two out – much to their protestation. With one final glance back at my expression, Angela shut the door softly behind her.

I stood there rigidly for a moment, testing the atmosphere. If she was angry, I wanted to know that before I dove in the deep end.

"Booth." It wasn't a declaration, or a question. It was a comfort for her. At least; that's what it sounded like and I was perfectly happy to embrace that option.

"Bones," I murmured. Deciding to attempt to lift the mood before it stuck to the floor, I continued. "You look like hell, Bones. Really."

"Thanks," she said wryly, finally turning to look at me. I watched her for a moment, containing my rage at the sight of the bruises that had bloomed along her face and neck; before ambling along to sit next to her.

Blunt and unembarrassed as always, she spoke.

"I was raped." Bones said it as though she was mildly surprised, and I ignored my fury as best I could as I examined her for any signs of psychological trauma.

"I... well, that was kind of a given," I said awkwardly. Judging by her personality, and the relaxed state she seemed to be in, I doubted she was after sympathy. I decided to be blunt, but more softly so than she was.

"Yes, of course; objectively... but the doctor came in earlier, and now that its confirmed I find myself slightly irritated," she said mildly.

"You're... _irritated_?" I asked incredulously. She considered it seriously.

"Yes," she said finally... simply.

Just yes. Just _irritated_... no fury at being wronged; no self-hate for not fighting back, no blame, no fear of having a man sitting next to her....

Just irritated.

Wow.

"Bones," I said, feeling like it was best just to say what I thought. "Aren't you pissed off?"

"Well..." she mused. "It's a little annoying that I wasn't able to defend myself. He caught me by surprise; he did quite well, really – although neglecting to finish me off was probably a mistake on his part-"

"Okay, now you're pissing me off!" I interrupted angrily. "Why are you talking about it like it's okay? _He stabbed you through the side_ and bloody... he... he _raped _you. That doesn't even _bother _you?"

"Booth," she said sternly, a small pucker between her eyebrows. "Sex is a meaningless form of reproduction and physical gratification. Some humans just enjoy the power of acting more like a wild animal than society expects. It's just unlucky that I happened to be his target. I'm fine, see? I'll get better. It's just the fact that I had no say in the matter that angers you, but I should have protected myself more efficiently. It's a lesson learned – we all know people like that are out there."

"But... but-"

"Most people who experience rape feel traumatised and scared of men," snorted Bones. "They're weak minded. Just because they experienced someone's bad side, doesn't make it any more likely that the other men in the world have the same traits. It's just so, so stupid to let something like this get to you – for example, your proximity doesn't bother me because I know you're not a bad person. I experienced the bad side of a person who always had that trait – me having that happen doesn't mean all the men I see are suddenly more likely to attack me too, but a lot of rape victims just get scared of everyone because they had their eyes opened to the potential actions of bad people."

I considered that, and was quite surprised to find that I understood everything she said... not that I'd ever say it to someone for fear of looking like an insensitive asshole. She made a good point, but still....

At my lack of response, she cocked her head.

"Do you understand what I mean?"

"I... well-... you-"

"Booth...?"

I sighed. "Don't ever say that to any other rape victim."

"Why?"

"What?" I asked. "Seriously? Bones, she-slash-he'd be so freaking offended and feel so wronged and misunderstood... all that. I mean, I understand your point, but that doesn't mean you should advertise it. The women – and sometimes men – who react the way you said? They would _not _appreciate your take on their minds."

"Oh..." she briefly thought about that, and shrugged. "I see your point. But still; look at me. I'm grasping the situation, I'm accepting what happened, I'm working through it – I'm doing everything right, but it just doesn't bother me because I'm being logical. Rational. I'm not going to get psychologically traumatised or anything; so you can relax."

"Okay, okay, Bones," I muttered, shaking my head at her absurd opinion. "But I'm still pissed off. Just because you in particular don't seem to be shocked, doesn't make it okay for that guy to do that to people."

"No," she said calmly, speaking completely normally, as though we were discussing a book we'd read. "But I still stand by the facts – if acting by instinct like that; attacking and relieving needs: if that is wrong, then being a vegetarian, or living in a house; they're all wrong too, because we weren't designed to do those things."

I was once again shocked by her logic, but found myself with only pitiful arguments against it, like 'it's still not fair'. I shook my head irritably. "Bones, us arguing about this kind of thing is about as pointless as a bucket with a hole in it. Let's just call the others in and talk about something else, okay?"

"Sure," she shrugged, then paused. "I don't see the relevance of the bucket, though."


	4. AN

**Well, I've actually had a lot of comments saying that to be totally truthful they sort of agreed with my rendition of her attitude. **

**Do you think she's so weak minded to break down simply because 'she was raped'? If you break it down to what has actually happened to her, it isn't that bad. Remember the episode in New Orleans when she wakes up bloody and bruised? She isn't a crying heap, or freaking out about things - she tries to figure it out.**

**I'm not continuing the story, because I believe that she is the sort of person who would just be more careful next time. Lock her doors. She is just the type who would accept the situation for what it is; a reflection of how humans really are - animals. We ARE just animals, after all. I'm not saying that it excuses the behaviour of the guy, or that people who do break down after events such as this are wrong, but I think she wouldn't be so blindly upset.**

**Key word - blindly. People hear 'rape' and automatically the impression is 'traumatic experience'. What exactly makes it more traumatic than having a drive-by done on you? Waking up covered in blood on your hotel bathroom floor? Working with dead people?**

**NB: I've had some feedback about the 'weak minded' bit. I'd like to clarify that everything I'm saying is about Brennan specifically. I mean that, for her, being upset without 'reason' (as SHE would see it, you see) would just be stupid to her. I seem to have offended people because apparently it looks like I am misinformed about what rape is and how it affects victims, and I should do some research. I say again – this is my genuine perception of Brennan's opinion and reaction to the subject. If rape is personally a touchy subject for you, then maybe it would be wiser to steer clear of rape or other kinds of violence centred stories?**


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